


The Long, Cold Winter

by silverpaintedwings



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverpaintedwings/pseuds/silverpaintedwings
Summary: A short drabble dealing with an original setting involving Gilbert Beilschmidt (human AU) and my 2P!Hetalia Prussia OC Engelram.  Includes overload of feels.All characters here are 18+.
Relationships: prussia/oc
Kudos: 1





	The Long, Cold Winter

The flowers were blooming late again. It had been cold, a very cold winter, and the plant-life was reacting accordingly.

He’d always liked the flowers upon the trees. The tiny buds of pale pink and yellow and white upon branches previously devoid of life. He always smiled then. That wispy little tilt of the mouth, barely more than a flutter of a moth’s wing.

Gilbert remembered it well, those few times he’d seen it. That mouth, in retrospect, had so very little to smile for which made the rare occasion of its presence all the more special.

He didn’t know what caused him to think of it suddenly after all these years. After. . .

The albino shook his head and continued walking down the old cobbled path of the park, past a still half-frozen fountain with a thin sheen of ice glazing its surface. Fists shoved deep into his pockets for warmth tightened as his mind inevitably wandered towards an image he’d been trying to forget for a long time now. Yet, like an aggressive weed, it came up again and again despite his efforts.

“Shit…” Gilbert cursed to himself, channeling some aggression into a strong kick that sent a rock barreling into the stump of a tree, shaking its branches minutely. He’d stopped walking then, finding himself experiencing a sudden flare-up of allergies that forced him to scrub at his eyes with his wrist. Strangely enough this was a particularly bad flare-up and he found that he couldn’t stop scrubbing at his watering eyes nor could he stop sniffling. If only he could sneeze already and get rid of this irritation…

Well. At least there wasn’t anyone else in the park to see him like this. Him with his stupid allergies.

Which is why the soft step of a presence beside him was first ignored and brushed off as nothing. However, with the addition of the strong pull of a gaze on him, Gilbert startled and stepped back, whipping his arm away to stare wildly at the spot. The initial surprise was compounded with a second one as a pair of pale eyes blinked up at him with the gentle sadness of a eulogy. 

His lips moved far before his voice caught up to the motions, and when sound finally came out, it was wrangled and stinted, the syllables coming out strained. “En… Engelram..?”

The boy, now recognized, tilted his head at a curious angle, his eyes never leaving Gilbert’s. He raised a soft pale hand hesitantly before using the very tip of his index finger to catch a tear that had spilled down Gilbert’s cheek. The upward swipe of his nail upon that cheek was enough for him to convey his question: _Why was Gilbert crying?_

Somehow the recognition of that soundless question made a spark of anger flit up from Gilbert’s chest to his cheeks, burning them crimson.

“As if you of all people need to ask!” he spat out at Engelram, the final ‘sk’ accompanied with furious spittle. “I don’t care if you are a figment of my imagination or some phantom come to haunt me! How dare you even ask such a thing! You can fuck off back where you came from for all I care!” He turned suddenly, his whole body rejecting Engelram’s presence. He stayed turned for what he thought was an appropriate amount of time before he glanced back, startling again when he saw the boy still standing there looking concerned yet unperturbed.

“What? Hard of hearing after all this time?” demanded Gilbert. “Don’t you have enough sense to understand how pissed I am with you? I can’t even stand to look at your face right now!” 

Engelram’s gaze slipped from Gilbert’s face down to his hands which had started to shake undetected by the albino himself. Even though the threat of being struck was present, the boy reached out with his own two hands to close them around Gilbert’s wrist, helping to still it. 

“Don’t- touch me!” Gilbert exclaimed yet found his arms frozen in place, unable to yank his wrist back to pull it from Engelram’s touch. That same snowflake touch which you knew, in its frailty, could be broken from easily yet its very nature was cause for hesitation. That same hesitation was gripping the albino now. 

As were the allergies which had come up full force. The feel of his hands on him again made the angry hot tears flow freely; made his jaw tense up and his teeth clench. 

He looked so uncool then. But he also didn’t care as he freed the sobs from the cage of his broken composure.

“You’re gone… you’re gone- I know you are. I saw them put you in the fire… what was left of you… I know you’re gone…” Gilbert cried out between coughs and gasps. “You…” He found he could still move the untouched hand and immediately his rough palm reached out and cupped Engelram’s pale, scarred cheek. “You aren’t real, Engel… You can’t be… They put you in the fire… Not even a- a grave to mark—not even a stone to tell the world who you were…

“And yet… here you are… My hand t-touching you… Your eyes staring at me like they used to…” Gilbert let his head fall forward, resting it brokenly against Engelram’s forehead, matting down the bangs that always were a little too long to help hide those sweet sad eyes. 

He sniffled harshly and felt another sob choke his throat as even the scent of the boy registered with his senses and brought with it more painful memories in sharper clarity.

Engelram released one hand from Gilbert’s wrist, bringing it up to press his palm to the albino’s chest, the heart beneath his touch hammering roughly. The hammering skipped a half-beat in tandem with a sharp elicited gasp as a soft pair of lips brushed against his for just a moment. But a moment was all that was needed to convey what Engelram wanted to: _I forgive you._

Before Gilbert, with his penchant for fighting, could argue about why he shouldn’t, Engelram’s hand had slid up from Gilbert’s chest to the side of his wet cheek, his eyes searching his with his brows upturned. 

Gilbert remained silent, the challenge shifting from the words he’d tried to verbally express up to the expression in his eyes. But Engelram wouldn’t be the one to break the gaze.

“Fuck…” Gilbert rasped, his eyes tearing away. “You… You know you’re asking… so… goddamned much of me, don’t you?”

Engelram’s thumb rubbed gentle lines across Gilbert’s cheekbone, forcing him to look back at him. For him to regard the gaze free of the hate he knew he deserved to receive. The kindness killed him more than any hint of scorn would’ve. . . He wanted the scorn. Because then he’d feel justified for the mistakes he’d made that led up to what became their reality now. . .

“You’re not going to leave me alone until I do,” Gilbert spat out with misplaced disdain before he caught himself and toned it back down. A part of him didn’t want Engelram to leave, even if he knew whatever _this_ was would not be able to last for long despite what he’d accused. He didn’t know how he knew—he simply knew.

“Don’t go… bitte….” contrasted he with a sudden uprising of desperation. He broke free of Engelram’s grasp and wrapped his arms around the frail frame, holding it close to him with a fresh wave of tears and sobs rising with a vengeance. “Stay with me, angel. Let me make it right again—somehow…” 

An impossible plea. 

They both knew it. 

But he just had to try….

“You want me to forgive myself….” Gilbert snorted wetly, moving his upper torso back just far enough to search Engelram’s face. “You know that’s impossible. Not after what happened. Not ever. This is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. . . If only I’d gotten there on time. If only I hadn’t let you attempt it alone- you’d…” He inhaled shakily. “I’ve gone over that day a hundred times- no- a thousand times since… Each time imagining how things could’ve gone differently… How it- should’ve ended differently. There was so much I could’ve done…” Gilbert buried his face into Engelram’s shoulder, wetting grey splotches onto his white shirt. 

Engelram’s touch raised to the back of Gilbert’s head, softly ruffling the short white strands there. _Time is wasted on regret._ He held Gilbert tenderly, his hand behind his head and his other arm curling behind his back, pulling him closer, his cheek resting atop Gilbert’s head. 

The older man felt something drip onto the back of his head before a few more somethings followed. Without even looking, he knew his angel was crying and that just shattered his heart into even more pieces. The lamentation of his angel was too much for him to bear. 

“Don’t cry for me, damn it. Don’t!” Gilbert screamed helplessly. “I don’t deserve your tears…”

_But you do._

“I never deserved you….I- ruined you… You should despise my very being!”

_I love you._

“Engelram!”

_I love you._

“Engelram.”

_I love you._

“Engel….”

Gilbert felt all energy drain from him as his body slumped against the small frame with defeat. He was tired. So tired now. All anger and hate had leaked away leaving nothing but a cold numbness that was a shard in his chest cavity.

_You know I do._

“I…”

_I never stopped loving you._

“…”

_And I never will._

Once more Engelram pressed a satin-soft kiss to his lips, only this time it lingered, transferring every ounce of the emotions he held for the man. A quiet desperation pushed Gilbert to kiss back, a small voice inside him making a promise he knew he didn’t want to keep. Yet resignation and realization smoothed the doubt down, helping him to truly believe in the promise his heart made. For Engelram loved him so much that he’d want nothing but happiness for him, and it’d be Gilbert’s love for the boy which allowed him to fight to finally move on and let the circumstances of his death go.

It was at the moment of this realization that Gilbert felt the form slip away, his own arms falling down to his sides as he stood there alone once more. He inhaled a slow, deep breath, realizing after all this time that his chest felt strangely full. It hadn’t felt like this in a long time and it took him a while to realize what it was that made it feel so full again.

Purpose. 

Engelram had given him his sense of purpose again; the chance to move on and live once more unburdened by a crushing guilt. 

Gilbert looked up towards the sky and exclaimed a soft, “Ah-,” as he noticed the arm of a dark brown branch bearing the tiniest white bud upon it.

Looks like the winter was finally ending. 


End file.
